


he was born to love me (I was raised to be his fool)

by Aria_Masterson1153



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with an unhappy ending, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Insecurities rearing their ugly head, M/M, Slight verbal abuse, Toxic Relationship Themes, sorry pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:04:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Masterson1153/pseuds/Aria_Masterson1153
Summary: “Baby I’m so sorry,” Auston whispers into Mitch’s skin, attempting to brand the words into Mitch’s very being. To selfishly leave something of himself behind, a tangible artifact indicating that he willalwayslove Mitch, forever.“You’re right, don’t be sorry. I wish to god you weren’t, but you’re right, you’re always right,” Mitch breathes into his ear as he soothingly strokes across Auston’s scalp, and in a way it’s more painful than anything else they’ve said to each other tonight, because it’s a reminder; a reminder of what used to be, of whatcould’vebeen.





	he was born to love me (I was raised to be his fool)

Their relationship both started, and ended, with a game. At first it was who kissed the best, who loved the hardest. Now, it had turned into a game of who could hurt the most vindictively.   
  
They’d fought, about something trivial, but it had blossomed into something more, catalyzed by alcohol and other warm bodies around them, seeking the companionship they had so thororoughly disintegrated between them. Auston watches as Mitch chats up another guy at the bar, probably a drunk straight guy who doesn’t even know he’s getting hit on.   
  
It doesn’t matter. It still stings.   
  
But he is rendered emotionless, at least on the outside. He takes a sip of his beer, peering at the interaction with a cold interest.   
  
When Marty saddles up beside him, he hardly pays him any attention, blindly clinking the neck of his bottle against Marty’s.   
  
“Why do you let him do this to you? Why do you allow yourselves to hurt each other?” Marty questions, his voice more upset than Auston is capable of dealing with right now. “It’s not right, what either of you are doing, you need to fight for each other.”   
  
_We’re doing more than enough fighting as it is_ , he can’t help but think in an oddly detached stream of thought. “I’m...I’m tired Marty,” Auston sighs, his voice carefully devoid of emotion. “I’m tired of fighting _with_ someone instead of _for_. I can’t do it anymore.”  
  
Marty scrubs a hand over his stubble in thinly veiled frustration. “Then why are you stringing each other on? This isn’t healthy Matts, for either of you.”   
  
Auston nods, understanding everything Marty is saying. It’s true, every word. It is unfair to the both of them to do this day in, day out. “I love him,” he chokes out instead, the traitorous emotions closing his windpipe as he shrugs helplessly.   
  
“Oh, Auston,” Marty murmurs as he pulls him into a suffocating hug.   
  
Auston compacts himself as small as he can, fitting himself within the broad planes of Marty’s chest. He’s never felt so out of control; his mind can’t decide which emotion to focus on. The seething anger that’s running a nearly electrical path through the network of his veins, or the bitter desolation of heartbreak that snuffs out any impulse of light in its passage.  
  
There’s a sense of inevitability, that this is _it_ , for real this time, and Auston doesn’t quite know how to process it. He sniffles quietly as he feels a few burning tears escape and carve their way through his battle-hardened skin.   
  
Looking up over the alcove at which Auston’s head is tucked into Marty’s shoulder, he spots the heinous smirk of victory that Mitch wears proudly.   
  
Another stab, another nail in the coffin. The twisted smirk is _sharp_ and he can feel its entry wounds all over his body.   
  
Mitch can surely see the way the light reflects off his tears, and he _winks_. Another win for him, in this game that they were always destined to fail in. Auston hopes he thinks it’s worth it, this expiring burst of self-satisfaction. Because after this, he knows there’s no turning back.   
  
He roughly wipes at the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes and sighs. “I think I’m gonna head home,” He finishes off the rest of his beer, and walks away without looking back at Marty.   
  
Unsurprisingly, Mitch doesn’t follow him.   
  
 

\-----/-----

  
  
_u home?_  
  
It’s a text from Mitch. He probably assumes that Auston’s been allocated enough time to sufficiently cool down from their little game of cat and mouse.  
  
_yeah, just doing some dishes_  
  
_come over? xx_    
  
Just like that. Just like that he’s back to being the doting boyfriend. It makes Auston’s head spin.   


\-----/-----

  
He stands in the hallway longer than he reasonably should, resignation weighting his bones. He hesitantly lifts his hand to knock on the door, even though he has a key to the place. Knowing what he knows about the end to this night, it just doesn’t seem right to barge in unannounced.  
  
“Hey, took you long enough,” Mitch jokes as he pulls open the door, and Auston can see that he’s completely sober despite the drink he was cradling at the bar.   
  
Good, at least he’ll be sober for this.   
  
Once he clears the entryway of the apartment, Mitch leans in to kiss him, a smooth, dazzling thing that disarms him as quickly as it normally does. He’s defenceless against his body’s response, gripping Mitch and pulling him tighter into his own body, sharing the warmth the same way they’re sharing air.   
  
His fingers trail up Mitch’s shoulders and into his hair the way he loves, eliciting a sigh from Mitch as his hands continue their exploration.   
  
He lets them wander, because he feels the finality of this kiss, even though Mitch doesn’t. It’ll have to be him that draws the line, as it always will be. Mitch will never know when to call it quits, to give up, even if it ends up killing him.   
  
“Mitch,” Auston wetly gasps into his cheek, breaking their contact. “What are we doing?”   
  
The way Mitch tenses is undeniable, a subtle manifestation of his perceptiveness. It fuels Auston all the same.   
  
“Well we’re kissing, and I’m hoping it turns into something more,” he jokes, and it’s a weak cop-out; a vague answer in comparison to the evident tension he’s holding in his frame.   
  
“You know what I mean,” Auston says stonily, not giving him an out.  
  
“I didn’t kiss him, if that’s what you’re thinking...fuck Auston, I didn’t even touch him,” Mitch begins, a little desperately, if the caginess in his eyes is anything to go by.   
  
“It’s not,” he concedes monotonously, because he knows how it goes with Mitch. A look here, a wink there, but nothing ever too serious. The game doesn’t work like that.   
  
“Well then what?” Mitch tries to question, though there’s an inflection of something morbid in his tone, a foreboding resonance that alludes to Mitch’s knowledge of why Auston really came to his apartment tonight.   
  
“What we’re doing to each other, it’s not healthy Mitch, it’s...it’s fucking _horrible_.“ He tries to ignore the way his voice cracks on the last word.   
  
“And you don’t think this isn’t easy for me?” Mitch retorts, his voice rising as his anger ratchets up, an automatic self-defense mechanism.  
  
“I never said it wasn’t,” Auston snarks, powerless in the way his mind responds to the edge in Mitch’s voice.   
  
“Oh, so now you’re talking about saying something? _Now_? That’s fucking rich Auston, you couldn’t talk about what’s bothering you if you had a gun to your head,” his words are spiteful, bitter, and god Auston hates the way his words cut like no one else’s can.   
  
“At least I’m not fucking whoring myself out to anyone that’ll fucking look in my direction!” He shouts back, and he knows he should be ashamed at how juvenile he’s acting, but it’s so smothered by the blinding rage that he doesn’t think he’ll ever see past it.   
  
“Because you never fucking paid attention!” Mitch explodes, roughly shoving Auston away. “In public, you never fucking looked at me, what was I supposed to do?”   
  
It’s then that Auston laughs, a tormented, cynical thing that manages to raise the hair on his own arms. “Look at me. You were supposed to fucking look at me, not find the first fucking person who met your eyes,” his words are as quiet as they are menacing.   
  
“And why would I? I could find anyone else and not have to put half the fucking effort I put in with you,” the comment is intended to hurt, and fuck does it ever. He feels the resounding punch of the words to his chest, his breath whooshing out of him in a mixture of anger and surprise.   
  
“You’ll never fucking find anyone like me,” the possessive rage takes over; Mitch’s comment having its calculated effect.  
  
Mitch turns toward him, a confusing mix of shock and pity on his face. “Don’t you understand? I’d be lucky if I _never_ fucking met anyone like you again. You fucked me up Auston, and good,” there’s a sort of resignation that creeps in towards the end of his statement, that the anger is passing and leading instead into the next stage of grief— desolation.   
  
Auston sighs in response, the anger bleeding out of him in ugly spurts as he steps closer, closing the distance that Mitch created. “Don’t you see how toxic this is? We can’t do this to each other anymore.”   
  
Mitch meets his eyes, and he watches as the anger-induced bravado clears, leaving something much more wanton in its wake. Mitch’s eyes cloud in pure grief, and his lip wobbles in his attempt to contain his emotion.   
  
He sniffles quietly, glaring into the corner of the apartment in an attempt to contain his tears. “Mitch,” he calls softly, willing his attention again. “I don’t want to do this to you anymore, please, _please_ , don’t let me do this to you anymore,” it’s a plea from a man who never begs, and it shatters any semblance of control Mitch has.   
  
He unthinkingly collapses into Auston’s outstretched arms, the sounds of his unrestrained sobbing echoing through the quiet apartment. The noise reverberates on the four walls surrounding them; magnifying the wails until Auston’s sure they’re all he’ll hear when he closes his eyes.

“Aus, please, please, I’m sorry, Auston please don’t leave me I don’t know what I’ll do-“ he rambles as his hands scrabble for purchase anywhere on Auston’s body.   
  
“Mitch, stop, please for once, just stop,” Auston murmurs, and he’s just so tired. So tired of Mitch’s excuses, so tired of the way he can never say no to him. “This is it, _enough_.“   
  
“Auston,” he whimpers, sniffling back snot as he furiously wipes at his eyes.   
  
“Mitch, I can’t,” he whispers weakly, as he feels his own eyes burn with the unshed tears he’s been burying all night.  
  
“I know, I know,” he hiccups as he reaches for Auston, pulling him into a fierce hug that Auston couldn’t force himself to break, even if he wanted to.   
  
He clings to Mitch, the curves and planes of Mitch’s body as familiar as his own. They know, without having to admit to it, that this is their last act as _Mitch and_ _Auston_ , signaling their transition into Mitch, and Auston. It’s an act full of all of the love and forgiveness that should have been there, but would have never surfaced in any other situation other than this.   
  
“Baby I’m so sorry,” Auston whispers into Mitch’s skin, attempting to brand the words into Mitch’s very being. To selfishly leave something of himself behind, a tangible artifact that he will _always_ love Mitch, forever.  
  
“You’re right, don’t be sorry. I wish to god you weren’t, but you’re right, you’re always right,” Mitch breathes into his ear as he soothingly strokes across Auston’s scalp, and in a way it’s more painful than anything else they’ve said to each other tonight, because it’s a reminder, a reminder of what used to be, of what _could’ve_ been.  
  
And it shatters him, shatters what pieces Mitch hasn’t already destroyed. He shakes with silent sobs into the warm embrace that feels like home, but can’t be home anymore.   
  
The wiry, lean arms that held him through their times of joy, despair, and comfort. But, he realizes with a start, that he can’t claim this as his anymore, it’ll never be his again.   
  
“Mitch, I have to go,” Auston’s tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, protesting the weight of his words.   
  
The arms around him tighten momentarily, an involuntary reaction to his words, before Mitch forces them to relax with shaking breaths interrupted by hiccups. “I know, but I can’t...I can’t let you go,” his words are muffled by the sobs wracking their way through his weakened body.   
  
“Mitch,” his voice is strangled as it catches in his throat.   
  
“Auston, I need...I need you in my life after this, okay?” He breathes out shakily. “This can’t be it for us.”   
  
Auston nods without pause; Mitch was his first true love, the first person he could ever truly see himself living the rest of his life with. Just as one wouldn’t willingly chop off a limb, he couldn’t imagine cutting Mitch out of his life entirely. “I’ll need some time,” he admits. “I don’t know how much, but I’ll need enough that I’m thinking of you as nothing more than a friend.”   
  
“As much as you need,” Mitch nods jerkily. “This...it won’t be easy, but I _need_ you.”   
  
“I’ll always need you Mitch, always. I’ll let you know, I promise,” the heat they share as they lock eye contact is nearly tangible, the value of his promise weighing down on the two of them.   
  
Auston curves his fingers through Mitch’s hair, pushing his head down so their foreheads touch. Closing the distance would be infuriatingly easy, but he can’t, can’t push them back for one last moment of selfishness.   
  
Instead, he leans to press his lips into the tense muscles above Mitch’s brows. His eyes close, savoring the moment in the same way he knows Mitch is. He can feel his tears scorching down his face, intermingling with Mitch’s.   
  
“Mitch, baby, I will always love you, I will always care for you,” he murmurs brokenly as he cradles Mitch’s despondent face in the curvature of his palm. Reaching to brush away the steady flow of tears from Mitch’s eyes, he knows he’s not fairing much better himself.   
  
“I know sweetheart, I know,” Mitch soothingly rubs his hands over the delicate bones of Auston’s wrists, sensing Auston’s resolve wavering, because he’s always known him as well as he knows himself. “But,” his words came garbled, and  he clears his throat determinedly. “You need to leave, before I start begging, because I want to do something _right_ for once, I want you in my future, and if you don’t leave now I’m going to ruin it, like I always do.”   
  
Auston searches his eyes, flickering back and forth, seeing nothing but a set determination in his eyes, and it’s what gives him hope for the future, fills him with pride. “Mitch, I’m so _proud_ of you.”   
  
Mitch’s reaction to the statement is purely physical, jerking underneath Auston’s shaking hand, and inhaling brokenly. “Aus,” he whispers, like he can’t help himself.   
  
Auston indulges himself one last time, looking at this boy who has become a man before his very eyes. His thumb sweeps over the cut of his cheekbones, his eyes tracking the movement before they rest back onto Mitch’s eyes, his vibrant blue irises dulled with the tears shed.   
  
He gently removes his hand, and watches as Mitch fights the way his face is beginning to crumble in anguish. Auston sends him one last smile, rich in possibilities and hope, and turns away from his world, something he never thought he’d have the strength to do.   
  
But the hope carries his leaden feet towards the door, the hope that they can make something beautiful out of this tragedy.   
  
He hears a light thump, feeling the vibrations echo against the soles of his feet. He knows that Mitch’s weakened body can no longer hold him up, that’s he’s succumbed to his despair. Still, he forces himself to keep looking straight, because he knows he no longer has the strength to say no to Mitch.   
  
“Auston?” Mitch’s voice is small and dazed, lacking the clarity he had only moments ago.  
  
He doesn’t respond verbally, but his feet involuntarily remain planted in their position.   
  
“Before I met you, I never loved myself, never considered it an option. But when I met you? God, I loved you so much that I forgot what hating myself felt like.” It’s not a last ditch effort to keep them together, Auston knows, but an honest confession that can only be brought on by such blindsiding grief.   
  
Still, he doesn’t turn. “I know, Mitch,” he sighs, reaching for the handle of the door. “I know.”  
  
And as he shuts the door on Mitch, shuts the door on this chapter of his life, he doesn’t feel lighter. He feels heavier, that he may just sink into the Earth’s core with the way his body sluggishly reacts to what just happened.   
  
He slides down the wall parallel to the door, sitting outside of Mitch’s door. The silence is suffocating, stealing his short, weak breaths from him.   
  
It isn’t long before the screaming begins. Anguished shrieks emanate from the apartment that held so much joy for them, tarnishing the light until all he can see, and feel, is the suffocating weight of the darkness.   
  
Mitch screams and screams until he’s hoarse, and then he hears his name, repeated over and over again, like a mantra so Mitch can’t forget.   
  
“Auston, Auston, please-“ his wails are truly broken, his voice as splintered as his heart.   
  
He listens as Mitch’s whimpers gain fervor, until he’s howling Auston’s name at the top of his lungs, appealing to Auston, on the other side of the wall. Auston’s eyes are shut as silent tears stream steadily down his face, and a near animalistic response is brought on by Mitch calling his name in such desperation.   
  
_Protect, love, soothe_ , his mind roars at him, his mental hardwiring unaccustomed to ignoring Mitch’s pain.  
  
But that’s not his job anymore. He’ll still support Mitch and look out for him, but it’ll be in a new way, a foreign entity to Auston’s emotionally exhausted mind.   
  
He’ll protect Mitch from anything—from _anyone_ , including himself.   
  
But now, Mitch just won’t know about it. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  :(  
>   
> Also, I was in a great mood when I started writing this, wttfffff  
>   
> Thoughts, hockey pucks, snot-ridden tissues? Throw them at me in the comments below! :D <33  
> 


End file.
